Eyes Open
by Peyton LeVay
Summary: So now I know what happens after we die. Now, I just hope it doesn't happen again. — SI, OC. AU.
1. Rising From the Ashes

**A/N: So. This is the revamped prologue of Eyes Open. My first and second chapter will follow soon- I'll try to get them up by Tuesday, but it depends on what kind of stuff RL decides to dish out.**

**Originally, I never planned for this to go beyond a couple of chapters- hence the reason I never bothered getting a beta. But now...well. Suffice to say, that changed, though I'm not thrilled to be given another serious commitment.**

**ONE THING I'D LIKE TO MAKE CLEAR: As far as I'm concerned, Kaguya ****_does not happen_****. The whole Indra-Asura-whatever ****_does not happen_****. Chakra ****_did not_**** come from ****_fruit_****. The Sage of Six Paths ****_never makes an appearance_****. Okay? Okay. **

**Sorry for any of you who actually ****_liked_**** Kaguya, but...no. Just no. Thank you, and please enjoy. **

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**PROLOGUE**

* * *

_Where_ we ended up after death hadn't really mattered to me. In fact, I had never really gave it much beyond a passing thought; my priorities had been clear, even back then: family always came first; everything else—including myself—a close second.

Which is funny, because maybe if I had cared more about myself, I wouldn't _be_ in this situation in the first place.

What situation, you ask?

Well, stick around and I'll tell you.

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

In the rare moments that I _did_ think of what might happen to me when I died—at funerals and things of the like, when you couldn't help _but_ wonder—I had assumed that it would just be nothingness; that I would simply cease to exist. I had never believed in things like heaven or hell, as I had found the concepts to be ridiculous: a tall tale we're spoon-fed in an effort to scare us into being good, lest we suffer eternal fiery torment. Something no more feasible than Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

In fact, I never even _considered_ reincarnation to be a viable prospect—and _certainly_ not reincarnation into a _fictional universe_ where people can _literally spit fire_. No no no—it simply doesn't happen.

As it turns out, I was wrong—very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

Death was...simply put, one of the strangest things I have ever experienced.

One moment, it's a distant sort of pain, and then a feeling of _disconnection and cold_ and then—

—_weightlessness._

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

When I first wound up in the thick, imposing darkness, I was scared and confused beyond all possible belief, and ended up taking it out on the rubbery walls around me with hard kicks and punches until muffled voices and distant sort of pressure managed to calm me down after a while.

I had drifted into unconsciousness not long afterward, though my confusion hadn't abated for a second. I mean, I had died just minutes ago...hadn't I?

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

The next time I regained consciousness, it was to the darkness I had grown used to being wrenched away from me. There was pain, terror, helplessness, an inexplicable feeling of constriction, and air that was so cold that it _burned_.

After that, there was no shortness of helplessness and confusion. And for good reason, too; a babies' eyes don't develop well enough to see until several months after their birth. My entire world was blurry—like it is when trying on someone else's prescription glasses—and I had a difficult time distinguishing colors; something that was once simple and accomplished instantaneously.

I'll be honest with you: it was _terrifying_. I'd had next to no upper body strength, so I couldn't even _sit up_ on my own. There was an unbearable itch inside of my body that I now know was my developing chakra coils. And to top it all off, I couldn't even communicate my discomfort; every time I tried, it just sounded like somewhere between gibberish and the after-effects of a severe stroke—which lead to the thought: _had I suffered one, but survived? If so, did I suffer severe brain damage? Is that why I cannot see or walk or talk?_

I didn't know, and I couldn't exactly _ask_ if I had. So, I did the only I _could_ do: I screamed. I cried. And when I was done with that, I screamed and cried _some more_.

Maybe it's strange that I, an adult in all but body, would react this way. But I was, in part, ruled by the biological urges of the body I was inhabiting—hence why I could no longer control when or where I went to the bathroom—and I'll admit it; it was lonely, being in that state. I couldn't even tell whether or not my family was visiting me.

I _could_ tell that someone was constantly speaking to me (possibly in another language—at least, that's what I'd told myself, because I hadn't even wanted to _think_ that I might be suffering from aphasia) and that it was almost always the same person.

Strangely enough, I could also tell that this strange person was always lifting and carrying me—which didn't make a whole lot of sense; I had always been on the short side, but I was never _that _short, and I'm actually pretty heavy for my height. And in the state I am now, I'd think they'd give me everything through a tube—which wasn't an especially pleasant thought, but it's not like I'd be able to eat in any other way.

But it didn't matter much to me...until my senses cleared and I could see my caretaker's face.

Because the purple rectangles on his face looked like an _exact_ replica of the markings on that one anime character Rin Nohara from that show I watch—or _used_ to watch with my sister, up until my death. Honestly, my knowledge of the Naruto-verse was spotty at best, because I hadn't really had the time to watch it like I used to. And when I _did_ have time, my sister would have watched eight more episodes and I'd just have to watch and wander _what the hell had happened_ in between then and now.

Except for when the episodes heavily featured Kakashi. My sister had a _huge_ crush on his character, and would re-watch episodes about him constantly in between chapter releases—from both FanFiction and the manga—and talk all about the episodes I'd missed, what her friends said would happen in the next episode or chapter, etc.

I'd honestly tried to listen, but most went in one ear and out the other. But I know enough to recognize the symbols of most of the Hidden Villages—_especially_ when nearly every one of the characters I see has one on him _somewhere_.

And, uh. That was _definitely_ the Konoha hitai-ate wrapped around his neck like one of my Dad's old ascots.

Of course, I had simply dismissed it as him cosplaying because it was probably Halloween by then—because it _couldn't_ be anything but that, _right?_

Ha. I _wish_.

* * *

**edit: just tweaked the chapter a bit. **

* * *

**A/N: So, those of you who have been waiting for me to update, I apologize for taking so long. I hope the redone chapters are worth it. Also, is there anyone who wants to beta for this story? If so, let me know. **

**QUESTION**: If you had to choose, which fandom would you be reincarnated into?


	2. Cast the Dice

**I forgot to do this last chapter, but:**

**_Disclaimer!_ The authoress does not own—and does not claim to own—any fictional entities associated with the _Naruto_ franchise, apart from her OCs. That honor belongs to one Kishimoto Masashi. **

**All forms of feedback, especially advice, are welcomed with open arms. **

**Also, special thanks to sonyat for talking shop with me. She's the one who provided me with plot points and really made me think about the direction I want this story to go. She's also published a Rin SI called "Starting Out at Six Feet Under", and if you haven't already read it, you should check it out. **

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

It hadn't taken me long to realize that I was in the body of an infant—or at the very least, _dreaming_ that I was in one. For one thing, there had been the fact that my legs no longer reached as far down the bed—which was really more of a futon, though it was comfortable enough—as I remembered them to. And even back then, when my knowledge of medicine had been mediocre at best, I knew enough to know that people don't just shrink down to baby-size in a matter of a few months. Or even at all.

It didn't mean anything, as far as I was concerned. No, younger-me was all too happy to deny abject reality in favor of not having the pillars holding her world view-point up mercilessly annihilated. Looking back, I don't really blame myself. Things were so much _simpler_ when I was that naïve. Much simpler than they are _now_, at any rate.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Sure, I was angry, at first. I was disabled, alone—minus the caretaker who kept insisting I call him 'Papa' and kept calling me 'Rin'—and my family (that is, my mother and sister, because nobody ever knew where my father was) hadn't come to see me even during major hospitalization. Either that or they were being kept out—which I more readily believed.

I didn't connect all the dots until later—mostly due to willful ignorance. But do you really blame me? Who wants to believe that they're in a fictional universe, in the body of the person whose death was a fulcrum on which the character development of two major players—a la Obito and Kakashi—depended upon?

_I_ certainly didn't. But that's just me.

But one summer afternoon, _it_ happened, and I couldn't pretend anymore.

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

I'd been dropped off at one of Papa's friends places before my father had left on what he referred to as a mission. Everything was all good and fine, of course. The lady Papa left me with—referred to as "Mikuru-nee"—was nice enough. She mostly left me to my own devices in the safety of the gated play area she'd bought after the fifth time she lost track of where I'd crawled off to, but she changed and fed me, which was all I could really expect. Some nights, she even read me a bedtime story or two, depending on her mood.

The stories themselves didn't bother me; sure, it portrayed some pretty dark stuff in a sickeningly happy light, but honestly? That's not uncommon in any universe. I mean, "Rockabye Baby" anybody? How about Pokémon™? How is capturing clearly sentient creatures against their will in any way a thing to be happy about? How about the origins of Phineas and Ferb™?

...as you can tell, my childhood's been pretty badly mutilated. It's nothing compared to some of the other stuff that's happened lately, but...again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This isn't even the _worst_ of what happened. Not really.

The worst part came when Papa came to pick me up; bandaged and beat-up, with flecks of dried blood still visible on his vest and a hollow look in his eye. Mikuru-nee looked a little leery of releasing me to him, but handed me over nonetheless. His grip was just short of bruising at first, but it relaxed when he saw the sharp reproof in her gaze.

The conversation that they had was hard to follow, but the words that stood out to me most were _shinobi _and _Konoha_. Shinobi, as in "ninja." Ninja, as in mercenaries that had been around in feudal Japan. Konoha, as in the village the title character Naruto lived in. As in, either these people are all part of a really complex real-life RPG, or this is all _real_.

I didn't dare move a muscle the whole journey home.

* * *

ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

* * *

When Papa set us down on two separate futon beds, I hadn't protested. I was still too in shock to even think about any of it.

I had never put much stock into the reincarnation cycle, or an Afterlife. I wasn't the kind of person to believe in fairies, or anything like that. In fact, I was one of those kids who hadn't needed to see Mommy Kissing Santa Claus to know that he wasn't real, and who never believed that person who put on the costume was _really_ Mickey Mouse.

Yeah, I was just one of _those_ kids.

But then, if there was no such thing as a reincarnation cycle or an Afterlife, what was _this?_ An elaborate dream? Something my mind wanted to conjure up to entertain me as I died?

Maybe. But dream or not, it felt _real_. And...I didn't want to believe that it wasn't. I _finally_ had the father I'd been dreaming about my entire life. Sure, he wasn't—and still isn't—perfect. Sure, there's a lot of things that he's done that...I'm still struggling to forget, but he's _family_. And that's all that really matters in the end.

And honestly, I'm not sure how I hadn't figured it out sooner. All the hints were there: Papa's nonchalance at letting me run around free-range and his allowing me to have rubber kunai as my first teething rings, and oh, the Hokage Monument, just to name a few.

_...Wait. Papa had those...purple rectangle things_—chakra markings, I'd later learned—_which is something I'd only ever seen on Rin Nohara on the show. And even if it's all a dream, for the time being, it's shown no signs of letting up. Which means that..._

_Oh..._crap_._

* * *

**A/N: And so the first technical remastered!chapter of my story is now complete. It's kind of short, though the next one will hopefully be longer. I should be posting it in...a few days, if everything goes right.**

ANSWER**: If I had to choose, it would somewhere like Ouran High School Host Club. Surreal enough that you can defy some of the laws of physics, but realistic enough that things like shinobi are a thing of the past and there's only real world problems to deal with. **

QUESTION**: Recommend SIs?**


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